


Turning the Veil

by pbandfluff



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: 4x05, Alternate Universes, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pbandfluff/pseuds/pbandfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Multiple worlds for multiple timelines and multiple choices, but what of a world filled with things that might have been? The witching hour draws near and the veil becomes thinner and thinner… </p>
<p>Follow up to 4X05 and the shitfuckery that was that artifact and its effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning the Veil

Blame this story's existence on Race (racethewind10) for her ficlet and my love of Halloween and the idea of those lost to us being able to cross through the veil at certain times of the year and a little bit of Doctor Who.

See notes for perhaps a better understanding of what the fuck went down with this story.

-

 

“-now, while those rules are simple, they are absolutely unbreakable and I don’t- Sarah! Are you listening to me?”

A cascade of raven hair flounced up from the tabletop and dark eyes rolled slightly even as they focused on the taller figure standing in front of them.

“Stay with you, stay with Uncle, be back before midnight, don’t talk to strangers, etc., etc.,” droned the young voice from rote.

Jade-flecked eyes closed briefly in irritation, before their owner leaned forward and braced her hands on the table.

“Explain to me what you just said.”

The young girl’s eye focused suddenly, and her head tilted as her nose scrunched up.

“Um,” she trailed off, widening her eyes in innocence, “I… forgot?”

“You never knew in the first place,” her instructor groused quietly, moving around the table to wipe off the chalkboard. “You can’t keep memorizing things, Sarah, and not understand them. Being able to recite the entire dictionary does a man no good if he doesn’t know what any of the words mean.”

Crossing her arms, the 6 year-old pouted under her breath, “It’d be pretty cool, though.”

Her teacher paused in her scrubbing, inhaling sharply and releasing the breath slowly, returning to her work with renewed vigor.

“Are you attempting to teach that hapless board a lesson or has it warranted your wrath in some way?”

The masculine voice startled both occupants of the room, and they both looked up to find an older gentleman standing comfortably in the doorway.

“Merely taking advantage of inanimate objects again, Uncle.”

The gentleman smiled, stepping into the room and resting his cane on the table, “Now, if you could channel such vigor into your speech, we might have another literary great in our presence.”

As the older girl flushed prettily, Sarah twisted in her seat, turning her pale face upwards with a squint.

“There are too many rules,” she whispered loudly, “I don’t _like_ them.”

Her uncle chuckled heartily, patting her hand fondly, “That does not surprise me in the least, young lady. Given the date, I’m rather surprised you’re still seated and not gallivanting around in preparation for tonight.”

“I _was_ ,” came the emphatic protest, “but then we had to go over the rules.”

“You’d do well to listen, then,” he replied with a grin, “I expect to hear a full report of superiorly excellent behavior.”

Sarah tilted her head, “You’re not going, Uncle? I thought you always went.”

“I usually do,” was the response, “But you’re of the age that one night is not beyond your purview to handle.”

A smile and a glance up towards the board. “Do have fun, girls, for an old man if for nothing else.”

-

“CANDAAAAAYYYYYYY.”

Sarah tugged at the hand that held hers impatiently, basket clicking lightly against her utility belt.

“Have some patience,” her temporary guardian barked, shifting her skirts as she tried to keep up with her charge.

“No,” Sarah responded smartly, “I want candy, and I want to look at the costumes. In that particular order.”

“Sarah.”

There was no change in trajectory.

“ _Sarah_.”

Still no change.

“Sarah Jane Elizabeth, I will leave you to gather your candy by yourself if you will stop attempting to dismember my arm.”

Sarah was almost plowed over as she froze in place.

“Really?” she squealed, twirling around and letting her cape flutter around her.

“If,” came a stipulation, “You promise, more than anything you’ve promised before, that you will _follow the rules_ and be back here before midnight. Will you do that?”

Sarah suddenly became very serious, drawing her finger over the bat symbol emblazoned on her chest in a cross.

“Cross my heart and hope to die, double dog, pinkie swear,” she intoned, face set in determination.

A chuckle greeted her promise, and a hand waved her on. With a grin, she spun around and took off towards the first house and the first group of trick-or-treaters.

-

Several hours later, Sarah was beginning to contemplate the merits of eating some of her candy in order to fit the last few houses’ worth in her basket. As she plopped down on the edge of the sidewalk to take inventory on what she had pulled in already, she didn’t notice the chubby toddler teetering in her direction, pulled in by the bright orange of her basket.

“Emily! Where are you going, little lady?”

Sarah’s head snapped up. She knew that voice.

She knew that voice very, very well.

It was little wonder, then, that Emily made it to Sarah unimpeded, and fumbled a hand around a fistful of Sarah’s sleeve. Sarah stared down as jade eyes blinked up at her, a gummy smile opening into a gurgle as the little girl bounced up and down on her feet.

“There you are. You can’t just go grabbing everyone’s costumes, sweetie.”

Gentle hands scooped Emily up and perched her on a hip. Sarah slid her gaze up from the sandaled feet, over the yards of flowing white fabric, eventually settling on the crown of unruly hair the same shade as her own. Artemis, she thought distantly, vaguely remembering reading about the hunter goddess in one of the many books in the library. The head turned, and Sarah forgot to breathe as bright eyes crinkled as they focused on her own with a smile.

“Hi,” the older woman offered, bouncing Emily on her hip, “Are you lost?”

Sarah shook her head, wishing she could remember how to form words.

“Did Emily try to make a getaway again?”

Sarah suddenly remembered the group of people the woman had come from that she had seen out of the corner of her eye as they stepped forward and formed a loose gathering around the older woman and herself.

“Whoa, cool costume! All the candy points to you, man.”

The voice came from up and over the older woman’s shoulder, and Sarah followed it to find a man smiling at her, thumbs up framing his face. She smiled back slightly, noticing his thumbs were set wonky like hers were.

With that thought, the reality of the situation hit her, and she scrambled to stand up, scooping up her basket in one hand and her overflow candy in the other.

“Hey,” the older woman soothed with a frown, “It’s ok. Are your parents around? Or siblings?”

Sarah shook her head. “No,” she whispered, watching as the filtered sound of her voice registered with the adults.

“Dude, it that part of your costume?” asked a redheaded woman who reached up and wiggled a finger in her ear to try and clear it.

“Uh, sure,” answered Sarah, wondering why she wasn’t hearing her name being called from where she was supposed to report to.

“What’s your name?”

The voice had a smooth British accent, like her Uncle’s, and she swallowed as she recognized the woman it came from.

“Sarah,” she hedged, wishing for a distraction that would let her slip away unnoticed.

The curly-haired woman shifted Emily to her other hip, “What’s your last name?”

“Lattimer-Bering,” she spit out as she scanned for any sign of her caretaker, only realizing after the words had left her mouth what she had said.

The group fell silent, and Sarah refused to look at them, stepping back once, and then twice.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, deciding to get away and quickly, “I have to go, my-“

“Sarah!”

She looked up to see a flurry of skirts jogging towards her, and before she could warn her about the situation, her arm was being shaken.

“Sarah, you promised. You crossed your heart, hoped to die, double dog, pinkie swear _promised_ , and you weren’t there. I’ve been in a right fit looking for you, and _oh_ , Uncle will hear about this. I can’t believe-“

“Christina?”

The tremolous whisper came from the group and Sarah watched as Christina’s head shot up to look over her shoulder and her face drained of all color.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as Christina covered her mouth in horror, “They found me, I didn’t-“

“Sarah, be quiet.”

Christina had never snapped at Sarah with such anger before, and Sarah flinched at the sound.

Christina opened her mouth to continue, but was overshadowed by the sound of the clock tower tolling midnight. With a shimmer, she began to fade, and Sarah watched as she realized what was happening, yelling words Sarah, for the moment, couldn’t hear. As she faded completely and the second bell began to toll, Sarah turned around and faced the group, her focus drawn to the happy demeanor of Emily in contrast to the shocked and fearful faces of the others.

Struck by an idea, she quickly reached into her basket and pulled out the smallest piece of chocolate she had, stepping forward delicately and holding it out towards Emily.

“Happy Halloween,” she whispered faintly.

No one moved to take the candy from her, no one save the man she had smiled at.

Her father.

Stepping forward, he knelt down to her level and carefully reached out and took the candy from her hand. As their fingers brushed, Sarah was suddenly hit with the urge to know what it was like to be held by a father, to be loved and wanted. Tears began to fill her eyes and she wiped them away, feeling foolish for thinking of such things when she was happy with Christina and Uncle and the library and Mr. Sam who came by and showed her how to fight. The bell tolled a third time, and she shuffled back slightly, pulling off her mask and letting it hang limply on her fingertips.

“Can I hug you?” The question rumbled out from the man in front of her, and she looked up, dazed that he would even ask.

“Can I do that, or would that even work, or-“

Sarah didn’t wait for him to finish his question, dropping her basket and mask and throwing herself into his arms. He rocked back with her slight weight, not hesitating in bringing his arms up and completely enfolding her in his embrace.

He smelt of sugar and cinnamon, like the cookies in the grocery store, and below that of something that made her think of sandalwood. His arms were warm, so very warm, and Sarah thought of all the hours she might have spent resting her head on his shoulders, watching TV or reading comics or nodding off outside under the trees.

Though she was loathe to pull away, she did so, knowing that it could not last forever, no matter how badly she wanted it to.

“Hi, Daddy,” she whispered with a small smile, and reached up to wipe away the tears that spilled down his face.

There was a fourth toll, and she glanced over his shoulder to the Artemis-woman.

Her mother.

But she was someone else’s mother, and someone else’s wife, and Sarah couldn’t ever, ever, ever run into her arms like she had with her father. There was a spot for her there, forever waiting, but it wasn’t her spot to fill anymore.

“I love you,” she said to him, but she meant it for both, and as the fifth bell tolled, she watched as the world fluttered in front of her. When it reformed into the library, she glanced around, noticing for the first time how cold it was.

Shuffling towards her room, she began to strip off her costume, piece by piece, completely disinterested in the candy that spilled across the floor from her basket.

-

Ten years was a long time, wasn’t it? Sarah supposed it was, time was such a fickle thing where she lived, and so much had happened in 10 years.

It was bad luck, to tempt fate like this, but it was too much of a draw, too much of an opportunity to feel alive for her to squander with yet another year of waiting.

She ambled down the street, confident her old-style pilot’s outfit wouldn’t draw too much attention (annoyed that no one could identify Amelia Earhart from a dozen feet off). She made herself focus on the children, reveling in their joy and laughter and holding down her hope with each new costume she saw. As it had that a decade before, the night grew darker and midnight approached.

The trick-or-treaters thinned out and soon only a handful of people were left on the street. She walked down a few more houses before taking a seat on a low brick wall surrounding someone’s yard.

“You’re Amelia Earhart.”

The voice might have startled Sarah any other time, but she merely smiled and gazed up at Emily.

“You must be… Madame Curie?” she guessed, taking in the Victorian Era scientist’s garb.

Emily looked surprised. “How did you know?” she pressed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sarah chuckled, “I have many skills.”

Emily rolled her eyes, “Ok, _Xena_.”

Sarah laughed, shaking her head at the younger girl before rising. “You should get going,” she warned, “It’s getting close to midnight.”

As Emily checked her watch to confirm, both she and Sarah heard her name being called from the end of the street.

“See,” Sarah teased, “Told ‘ya.”

Emily stuck her tongue out before taking off in the direction of the yell. Sarah watched her go, standing up and dusting off her pants before turning in the opposite direction.

“Hey!”

Sarah turned back around to find Emily stopped halfway, turned in her direction.

“What’s your name?” Emily shouted.

“Sarah,” she yelled in response, turning back around and slowly retracing her steps through the neighborhood.

A wave of nostalgia came over her and she smoothly trekked her way down the various blocks to the infamous spot. Sitting down on the edge of the sidewalk, she braced her hands behind her and stared up at the stars. The night air was cold and crisp as she breathed it in, and she had the thought that even the cold here was warmer than anything she could find back home.

“Sarah?” She almost didn’t hear the voice amongst her thoughts, but eventually it worked its way through and she turned to find its source.

There she was, Artemis-woman, older, but still as imposing as Sarah believed her to be all those years ago.

Sarah stood, silent in a staring contest of wills, only broken when her mother stepped forward.

“I’m sorry,” her mother whispered, wringing her hands ever so slightly.

Sarah shrugged, “I’m not. I have a good life, and a family, and everything I could want.”

“I meant about that night, though I do mean for that as well,” her mother explained.

Oh.

“I should have- I wanted to-“ her mother fumbled, clearly trying to explain.

“It’s ok,” Sarah offered with a small smile, “I understood. I understand. All of it.”

Silence fell, and, wanting to reach midnight in solitude, Sarah offered her hand. Her mother stepped forward and took it, shaking it firmly.

As Sarah began to pull away, the grip on her hand tightened and she was tugged forward into a hug.

She froze for a beat before melting into the embrace, wrapping her arms around her mother’s back and resting her head in the crook of her neck.

Now she understood those things that Christina missed so badly: touch and affection and a mother’s soothing embrace.

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to slowly count to 15 before pulling away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, unsure what to do or say at this point.

Her mother nodded, humming a sound of recognition.

The first bell of midnight began to toll, and they both glanced up at the clock tower. There wasn’t anything to be said in the time they had, or perhaps in all the time in the world, but as the second toll rang out and the world began to flutter, Sarah reached out and touched her mother’s arm.

“Tell her Christina is happy,” she blurted quickly, hoping her words were heard as her home reappeared.

She took a moment, breathing deeply before glancing around her. A shock of orange caught her attention in the same way it always had for the last 10 years.

A smile grew across her face, and as she crossed the room to venture to the library, she snagged a piece of candy from her basket.

Maybe it was time to eat these, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So to explain in a very loose way how this seems to all fit in with, I dunno, some sort of reality, when I was writing this I had a couple of things in my head. One is the belief that on Halloween (All Hallows Eve, Hallowe’en, Samhain, etc.) the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest. Two is the idea that the Warehouse can create something of an dream world a la Doctor Who wherein a person’s consciousness might live on amongst friends and family. Three is that for every situation created by an artifact, real or otherwise, that is destroyed with its neutralization or causes destruction (i.e. Sam’s death, Pete and Myka’s baby, etc.), those involved are allowed to live on in a world like the one mentioned in number two. Since I created a dream world populated by people who lived at one point (a few of whom are Christina, Woolly, Sam, and Sarah), I decided that of all the worlds that would feel the thinning of the veil, theirs would be the one most affected. And seeing as their world exists through the Warehouse, the idea that something inside it could allow them passage back and forth didn’t seem all that far-fetched to me (Hugh Everett’s journal, anyone?). As well, I made their world a world of what-if, a world of might-have-been, a place where its occupants could experience those things they missed. Woolly and Sam become old men, Christina becomes a young woman, Sarah is a child, then a teenager. Sarah is telling the truth; their world gives them everything they want, but those trapped inside it are burdened with the knowledge that it isn’t “real”. As well, those in the “real” world can tell very quickly that something is not right with the dream world occupants when they cross over. I imagined their body would be solid, if not a tad bit too pale, but that their voices would sound buzzy, filtered in a way that isn’t of this world. And now that I’ve given far more detail than was needed, I’m going to walk away now.


End file.
